I used to be certain.
Not just confident or comfortable, but certain in the way only a young person can be when handed a complete system and told it explains everything. I had been taught a theology that divided the world neatly into what was true and what was false. It came with answers for every question that mattered and, more importantly, it came with the assumption that those answers were final.
I didn’t question it. Why would I? It was what I had been given. It felt like truth because it felt like home.
When I listen to people argue about theology now, I often recognize something uncomfortably familiar. I hear the same tone of certainty I once had. I see people defending systems they didn’t build but have fully embraced. They assume their conclusions are objectively true and everything else is objectively wrong.
I understand that mindset because I once lived there.

Lesson from U2: Rejection doesn’t necessarily mean it’s time to give up
The so-called ‘social contract’ just means ‘the rest of us own you’
Not having someone to hope for differs from pain of missing love
Despite advantages to digital books, there’s still nothing like ‘real’ books
My books are time machines that tell you where (and who) I’ve been
The more I understand humans, the less I really comprehend us